


Germany's Demons

by XantheKingsman



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: D-Day, D-Day 70th Anniversary, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied Germany/North Italy - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Songfic, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XantheKingsman/pseuds/XantheKingsman
Summary: It has been 70 years since D-Day! France is hosting an event in Normandy to celebrate the anniversary of his liberation. Japan, Italy and Germany have been invited. But even before they get there, Germany begins to wonder why he came, and why he was even allowed to come.The song used, "Demons", is by Imagine Dragons. I own no aspect of it.TRIGGER WARNING: The story frequently flashbacks to the Second World War, where some of its atrocities will be brought up, including the Holocaust. There are also mentions of attempted suicide.





	Germany's Demons

_5th June 2014_

Since he was the only Axis Power that could, Japan had been chosen to drive that day, as it was one of those days where Germany might space out and Italy couldn't be trusted. (put it this way; even in Italian, he didn't know the words "speed limit".)  
"This is just like old times vee~" Italy crooned from the back seat, his current memories of 70 years ago being ones of friendly nostalgia.  
"Oh really?" Germany's eyes prickled.  
"We weren't driving to France 70 years ago," Japan sensed that things might snap and quickly turned on the radio.   
It seemed that Japan's aim may have succeeded-all 3 of them couldn't help but join in singing Let It Go in their respective languages. Then another song came on.

 _When the days are cold_  
_And the cards all fold_  
_And the saints we see_  
_Are all made of gold_

Japan was now concentrating on the road and Italy was now resting his eyes. Germany, riding shotgun, however, was letting his eyes drift across the blurring landscape as the music entered his ear.

 _When your dreams all fail_  
_And the ones we hail_  
_Are the worst of all_  
_And the blood’s run stale_

Germany had had a dream once. Back in a time when he was really down on his luck (he'd made a mental note not to form alliances with Austria, Hungary or Serbia) as he nearly collapsed to the floor in exhaustion he wished that he could have lots more money. He'd caught this depression off America and was even worse off than him. His body had to fight to provide enough breath, and not enough at that, to keep working, because if those 24/7 cuckoo clocks weren't made and sold, he would starve.

 _I wanna hide the truth_  
_I wanna shelter you_  
_But with the beast inside_  
_There’s nowhere we can hide_

The Beast. He had been Germany's salvation. And his demise. Germany had been out trying to negotiate with a material-supplying business (which had closed down) when his tired ears heard that someone important was giving a speech in the local beer hall. Curious, he'd followed his citizens inside the grandiose building and listened to the strange man at the microphone.  
And felt it. The speaker had caught Germany's attention with his first word and built every precious letter up so that he had managed to hit a home run inside him and now his veins were surging with pure, refreshing hope, expressed in a loud cheer along with the crowd. It was like there were wings blossoming from Germany's back and he could fly, soar, swoop! He was the greatest country in the world, after all!  
As soon as Germany got home, he'd flopped onto his bed and slept for 3 days. Screw work.

 _No matter what we breed_  
_We still are made of greed_  
_This is my kingdom come_  
_This is my kingdom come_

Well they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Germany knew that all too fucking well. He thought he was doing the right thing, that he was saving himself, but... That day it was like he had fallen into a deep sleep and now he had woken up to a nightmare. He could still feel everyone's apoplectic shouts, their enraged punches...  
And then he saw the car and its passengers disappear completely.

 _When you feel my heat_  
_Look into my eyes_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_Don’t get too close_  
_It’s dark inside_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_

Too right it was dark inside. It was like he'd retreated into himself-he currently saw himself, the trees and buildings and people that made up himself, and bad things were going to happen. He knew it. He'd gone and pitted cell against cell, caused his own to kill his own...  
And he still remembered it clear as day. Japan called this sort of thing a "tsunami", like a tidal wave of poison gas. The memories were flooding him fast and furious, in bursts and billows and flurries that shook him physically and mentally, with every scream and howl and final breath...  
With every sharpening breath, Germany remembered every single human spirit that had "passed away"...

 _At the curtain’s call_  
_It's the last of all_  
_When the lights fade out_  
_All the sinners crawl_

Now his breathing was slowing down, slower and heavier. And, for some unbelievably stupid reason, he'd wanted the lights off. So they'd made their curtain call. And they'd come crawling...

 _So they dug your grave_  
_And the masquerade_  
_Will come calling out_  
_At the mess you made_

He didn't need telling twice. His life had been a mess. He'd made a mess-he was a mess. In more ways than one. Okay, so his cities had been bombed into rubble and that had definitely counted as a mess-but he'd bombed England first. And... the rest... he didn't really want to think about. But ended up doing so anyway.  
And then... the bringers of justice, the Allies. They had done the calling, and were mad as hell. The world was mad as hell and they'd certainly showed it.

 _Don't wanna let you down_  
_But I am hell bound_  
_Though this is all for you_  
_Don't wanna hide the truth_

And then... the icing-the cherry on this hellish cake. When Germany had changed he'd thought that some types of people were better than others. It started with minor discrimination at first, but then various laws were passed and eventually... they were built. Death factories, mass extermination facilities, hell on Earth, hot spots... concentration camps. Like beasts to the slaughter, the trains arrived filled with "people" who were numbered, sorted and assigned hard labour or just gassed or shot straight away.

 _No matter what we breed_  
_We still are made of greed_  
_This is my kingdom come_  
_This is my kingdom come_

Why was he even going to Normandy anyway? Oh yes-the D-Day anniversary celebrations. Would it be strange, an enemy showing up to the party? No doubt the Allies would use this anniversary to celebrate and rejoice in the fact that they'd won. Perhaps France would hear him apologize as if he hadn't already, and then ask him to leave. After all, he was celebrating how he'd been rescued from him. Germany had invaded France in 1940 and hadn't managed to take all of him, but what he'd seized was enough-particularly because he'd taken Paris, the so-called city of love. France had watched his new younger brother from the shadows, his heart breaking as he saw him grow up quickly into a coldhearted Nazi, and then some sort of failure racked by pain and war.

 _When you feel my heat_  
_Look into my eyes_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_Don’t get too close_  
_It’s dark inside_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_

Now Japan had pulled over in a swerve and swung the doors open to try and let some fresh present-day air in. "Italy-kun, quick! There's something wrong with Germany-san!"  
The two men pulled their friend out of the car where he curled up into a tight grenade shape, his eyes leaking tears as he whimpered.

 _They say it's what you make_  
_I say it's up to fate_  
_It's woven in my soul_  
_I need to let you go_

" _Germania, caro_ , what's wrong?" Italy lifted his crinkled red head up to try and get an answer.  
"Stupid question,  _Itaria-kun_. It's... 70 years ago. Are you sure we should've taken him?"  
Japan's answer was met with a pause, and then an "Oh yeah!" from Italy, and then a little puzzling over what to do next. The three of them were driving to Normandy, France to help France honour 70 years since D-Day along with several other countries. Japan and Italy had had one of those hushed-whisper talks beforehand about whether Germany should come with them (you do the maths) but their friend had heard and explained that he wanted to come out of a sort of obligation.   
Reluctantly, eventually Italy and Japan let Germany join them, but there had been slight times where all three of them had felt like they were walking on eggshells, or perhaps an unexploded bomb. It was clear as soon as the plane landed in Paris that Germany was beginning to have second thoughts, and was unusually nervous at border control, although he never said so once, even when Japan and Italy said that they were more than happy to let him go home.

 _Your eyes, they shine so bright_  
_I wanna save that light_  
_I can't escape this now_  
_Unless you show me how_

And those eyes, and that light he had seemed to be radiating, like a guardian angel. The minute Mussolini had left him, Italy had realized that there was something really wrong with his best friend and had tried to get stronger to save him... only Germany had heartlessly invaded him and reinstated Mussolini back in, under a Nazi puppet government. And then... Romano rejoined WW2 on the Allies' side, and then when he'd heard of Germany's secret from Russia, apparently the first thing he'd done as soon as he got to a phone was call his younger brother and tell him to come over ASAP. Nothing else.  
Italy had heard the shock in Romano's voice and had rushed over to Auschwitz as quickly as he possibly could. And got his heart shattered into atomic fragments. A livid Romano had gotten the Allies to film Italy crying because he wanted to "show that fucking sauerkraut bastard what him and his son-of-a-bitch leader have done to my brother. Mark my words, he will pay for this." There was also a picture taken of Romano after Italy's main onslaught of tears had stopped-he was completely drenched.

When Germany was finally rushed into hospital, Italy had spent as many of the visiting hours as he could by Germany's bedside. He didn't seem as angry as the others, but he'd still been racked with worry about if his best friend would make a swift recovery. Perhaps some emphasis on the if. Of course coming to terms with what had happened would be very difficult, and it was. There were thick linear scars on Germany's throat and wrists where he'd tried to slash them open-he'd been that upset after the Nazis had gone, and the loud unnatural sobs he had howled were heard all throughout the hospital, drowning out the whooping and cheering of the rest of the world like a piece of cake. Except precious Italy. He'd tearfully pleaded at Germany not to empty the medicine cupboards down his throat, or jump off somewhere high, or shoot himself in the head like Hitler had done. Italy had mentioned how the Führer had died when Germany was pointing a gun to his wet head, asking why he wanted to stoop to this low level. His quip had induced a blue-screen-of-death mind-blank in his friend for a little bit, but Germany was obviously feeling very deep remorse and wanted a way out from the pain, even if it meant hell, he didn't care. He'd probably be going there anyway.  
That had lasted a long while, and the world had lost count of how many times he'd tried to kill himself. Only since nothing was actually done to take Germany off the map, (even when his country was split in two, he got the west half) he survived every time, and so had to carry on shouldering the pain of what had happened. Plucking up the courage to go out and face the world had taken some time. Similarly, his guardian angel Italy had lost count of the number of times he'd said  
"I want to die."

"What happened?" Italy bit his lip. "He seemed fine in the car, just a little misty and on edge. So why..."  
Japan slapped his head hard. "Of course! That  _uta_... that song... Demons. I think that set something off in him music can do that to people."

 _When you feel my heat_  
_Look into my eyes_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_It’s where my demons hide_  
_Don’t get too close_  
_It’s dark inside_  
_It’s where my demons hide_

The position was almost second nature to Italy. This was definitely not the first time this had happened-of course Germany had had several panic attacks like this. During the 1950's, he hadn't been able to look up at the night sky (which is filled with millions of stars) without bursting into tears. These episodes had become less and less frequent over the decades, but Germany still remembered. And still felt horrible.

"Germany, can you hear me?" Italy soothed as he held the trembling Aryan tight to his chest and stroked his hand slowly up and down his soft hair. "It's okay. It's all over now. The war's over, remember?"

"I can't do this!" Germany shivered.  
_"It’s where my demons hide."_

\--Epilogue--

_ 6th June 2014 _

After kipping in a hotel in Normandy, the then-Axis Powers arrived at the memorial the next morning, dressed in the blackest suits they had. (Only Japan wore a white tie, Italy wore an electric-blue one and Germany wore a black one.) Or near it, anyhow. France was standing by an entrance greeting the countries as they came in. As soon as he was caught in the corner of Germany's eye, Germany shivered from his already-cold spine.  
" _Bonjour_  Japan, Italy! Germany!"  
Too late.  
Germany froze.  
But Japan hadn't noticed. He walked over to France and bowed in greeting. " _Konnichi-wa, Furansu-san._  How are you feeling?" And that phrase reminded him-"I've come with Italy-san and Germany-san. Is that alright with you?"  
France had obviously forgotten the significance. " _Oui_ , why not?  _Bonjour_  over there!  _L'Italie! L'Allemagne!_  So nice that you could come a lot more turned up than expected."

Italy was standing by Germany, and he could taste the emotional tension in the air. He could also hear his friend breathing heavily, perhaps to try and hold something back.  
" _Ciao_  to you too France! Germany? You coming?" Italy started skipping over.  
"Errr..."  
"Are you alright Germany?" France asked to the blond rooted to the spot. His fists were tensing and tightening and his legs were trying to appear a little stronger.  
Germany had taken a deep breath and this time it was Italy's turn to go "Errr..." Now it was a question of how loudly to say this.  
Oh forget it "France I don't mean to be patronizing or anything but do you remember who took part in D-Day? And why?"  
Then it clicked. "Oh!"  
France started walking over to Germany, at which point he ran off.  
"Let's give him some space," Italy decided.  
France agreed-he had a feeling Germany would come back when he felt a bit readier.

Maybe it was the fact of food that lured Germany back to the event, or perhaps just a coincidence of time, because France and Italy spotted him nervously hanging around at lunch.  
Italy didn't want to be too full-on, but France had stepped over and said hello again. This time Germany felt a little too caught.  
"France," he tried, "I understand if I'm not welcome here or something like that-and I also don't want to take any attention away from you, but... since..."  
A couple more countries were gathering round, curious.  
"France, I'm sorry," Germany flung his head down. "I'm sorry for treating you like shit and-"  
France just hugged him to applause from the spectators. "It's okay," he replied. "I know you're not the monster you used to be."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Nice to meet you.  
> I actually wrote this about 3 years ago in 2015, and it sat in my Sta.sh while I took an unofficial hiatus of sorts from DeviantArt and did exams. Last month, I was looking back through my old dA stuff and decided this story was ready for release, on the 74th anniversary of the D-Day Landings.  
> I already have two fanfics in progress, a crossover for Hetalia and another for another fandom, but these might not be uploaded in months. The way I work, the whole thing has to be finished before I upload it, in case I think of plot twists that will need to be hinted at in the beginning. And knowing me, this fanfic will likely be the shortest one I ever write, at round about 2,500 words. These 2 are at 45,000 and I think 85,000 words at the moment.
> 
> Again, Demons is owned by Imagine Dragons.


End file.
